I Am
by Hybridbabe
Summary: Troia finds that being in the service of Slade means beaing more than just an apprentice. Song fic to “I Am” by Godsmack


**Title:** I Am (In the Service of Slade)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the idea of putting Troia in Teen Titans. Godsmack's song "I Am" is copyrighted to them, and the Titans are copyrighted to DC Comics.  
**Author's Note:** I got to thinking about this, and I realized that although I've mentioned how Troia ended up with Slade, I never went into detail about this, so I decided to give a bit of backstory, and write about that time in her life that she'd rather forget. And I love this song, which will switch back and forth between Troia and Slade's POV's, but mostly Slade's. It'll also shed some light on their personal relationship, and the like. Enjoy!  
**Summary:** Troia finds that being in the service of Slademeans being more than just an apprentice.(song fic to "I Am" by Godsmack)

* * *

Concentrate, focus, listen and anticipate. Move swiftly, feel the battle course through your veins, and watch as time slows to a dead stop before you. A flash of movement with no warning, and strike to the best of your ability.

These were the keys to winning any battle against any foe, and Donna Troy, known as Troia, knew them better than anyone before her, now sixteen and the perfect apprentice that any deal could buy. It hadn't been hard to separate the girl from her newest set of parents; the mother was especially resilient, screaming and crying even a few minutes after he'd taken the tiny child in his arms, his fist slashed with crimson blood. Mother cried, cried, too weak to pull the dagger from her stomach, and died, her partner's throat a bloody mess and coursing over the floor, the slit through his windpipe too big to mend.

Slade had shushed the child, and turned his attention to breeding her to be the best, and when the time came, later on, after her heart was a bit harder and her soul stronger, he would find her again.

Then, she would be ready, and prove herself worthy of her destiny, and truly fall to his side forevermore.

Now, she was a fighting machine, the sessions long, grueling, and exhausting, but she never complained. No, she never did, and he was glad for it: he hated to have to slap her like a petulant child for sass. He hated retaliation.

_I am your spoken truth,  
I am the light in you.  
I'm going to make you shine,  
In everything you do._

He watched her strike the clothed dummy of Batman he had constructed and watched her patiently, admiring her tact and accuracy as she punched holes in the dummy with the two katar blades he had provided for her. Her long black hair was swept up into a high ponytail with a gold hair tie, her black jumpsuit accenting her form and visually lengthened her height. A new set of bracelets encircled her wrists, gold this time instead of silver, with etched "S's" as a form of ownership. Her combat boots were golden painted stainless steel, matching with the armlets, with a gold choke collar wrapped around her throat. She was bare fisted, as she should be, having no fear of using her unprotected hands for the jobs she should perform. For her, gloves hampered movement, prevented a firm grip on the twin blades in her hands, and the last thing he needed was a sloppy apprentice.

Troia had improved immensely, and he watched her lightning reflexes slice the dummy in two, beheading it at the same time as she kicked-flipped off of it, sending both halves crashing to the floor with a loud bang. She wasn't perfect, and the delivery lacked personal finesse, but that was easily fixed. He'd work with her more, and he knew she trusted him completely.

_I am your lighted way,  
And I am your darkest day,  
I'm here to help you see,  
You can rely on me._

Abruptly, he sprang from the shadows and sucker punched her, missing by milliliters as she grabbed his fist and swept his legs out from under him, a knee to his gut to make sure he went down. Leaping high, the teen used her power of flight to accelerate her speed downward, the disappointment registering on her face when her foot went crashing through the floor instead of his chest. She was dangerous, and she was still untamed; it was exactly as things should be. He never wanted the fire within her to smolder: he wanted it to burn.

And burn it did.

Now on his feet, he threw a few kung-fu moves in her direction at random, each one blocked, before he dared to kick a foot in her direction.

Immediately, she caught it, pulled him forward and struck him square in the middle with the flat palm of her hand, the force knocking the wind out of him and sent him tumbling to the floor. Impressive.

"Very good, Troia. You've improved significantly since the last time."

She was modest. "I'm only as good as my trainer, and I had the best, Master."

_Just consider me your friend  
I am until the end.  
Can I guarantee you life?  
I don't think I can._

* * *

She bowed to him out of respect, and dared not question any order he had ever given her, but from time to time, Troia wondered, truly wondered, what the hell she was doing. Yes, she'd known her master since the moment of her birth, been taught that he'd rescued her from a dull life of normalcy, but with every passing day, she longed for that more and more. Under his guidance, she had stolen, robbed, threatened, and maimed. She'd been shot at; stabbed numerous times, some of them from Slade himself; brutally broken, bruised and bloodied until she thought she would die, but as if by a miracle, he always stopped seconds before killing her completely. This wasn't what she had planned for in her life, and it felt... wrong. All of it, wrong. 

It was almost to the point where, if need be, she'd be 'too slow', and let her master end it for her.

It was pretty much the only thing that preoccupied her time: even the rigors of physical sparring had lost its appeal at age six.

_This isn't the life for me,  
This isn't the way I want to be.  
And let me tell you,  
Death will come when I'm good and ready.

* * *

_

Troia was hesitating now, suddenly unsure of herself, and that didn't bode well with Slade. It meant she was thinking, not reacting to attacks like a good little apprentice.

He'd have to teach her a lesson now.

Brutally, he was within two feet of her before she could blink, and slapped an open hand across her face, watching her reel long enough to kick her in the ribs with his left foot. He could feel one rip, two ribs break, watching her immediately defend herself like he'd taught her.

_I am your piece of mind,  
Confusing all your time.  
I'm running through your veins,  
I am your pain._

She was too good now, and any thoughts of morality were banished from his mind at that moment. She was too good, too perfect, and there was no going back. She could never unlearn what she'd been taught, could never escape his grasp if he even wanted her to go.

With sudden realization, he knew: he never did want her to go. Ever, no matter what. He'd do anything and become anything he could to make her stay. He'd become Satan if it meant having her at his side.

_I thought by now you'd now,  
I'll never let you go.  
It's time you recognize,  
I am the devil's eyes.  
Just consider me your friend  
I am until the end  
Can I guarantee you life?  
I don't think I can._

* * *

She coughed up blood, crouching on her knees and holding her ribs, knowing full well at least one was broken. Even her usual resilience couldn't stop the pain that almost overwhelmed her, and she was helpless in front of her master if he chose to finish what he started. _So this is the day,_ she thought, silently glad for it. _This is the day I die._

_This isn't the life for me,  
This isn't the way I want to be,  
And let me tell you.  
Death will come when I'm good and ready.  
This isn't the life for me,  
This isn't the way I want to be,  
And let me tell you.  
Death will come when I'm good and ready._

But the blow didn't come, and she glimpsed her master dropping to his knees, tapping her chin up to look at him. "Does it hurt, Troia?"

"Y-yes," she barely stammered out, gasping in pain. "It... hurts."

"Do you know why I kicked you?"

"I... thought too... much... right?"

He nodded. "Don't think. Just react. That's rule number one, Troia. You know rule number one and you always break it. That's your weakness: you think too much."

Was she thinking too much? She slowly shook her head, unsure of how to answer. "I didn't think I was."

**SLAP!** Tears stung her eyes as her head flew sideways. Hastily pulling her chin back the other way, he looked deeply into her eyes and spoke slowly. "Don't talk back."

Crying now,torn betweenher morality and her master,she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." A muscular arm slid across her shoulder and drew her close intimately, entwining his fingers around hers as he did so. "I forgive you." His head resting on hers, he sighed, and smiled behind his mask. "I knew you didn't mean to disobey me. You were a lot more defiant in the beginning. I'm happy you see things my way now, though."

_Take me by my hand  
And let me show you what I am.  
I'm taking control again.  
Now I know I can  
Take you back to where it all began  
Because I am..._

The water droplets continued to fall, Troia's voice hollow and monotonous. "I'm sorry. I'll never disobey you again."

Surprisingly, he reached upwards and tipped his mask back, making sure she couldn't see him before he kissed her on the head, whispering in her ear. "I forgive you, Donna. It's alright; you'll always have a place in my heart. You'll always be mine."

A cold shiver ran up and down her spine but she refused to shiver; she just wept for the life that could have been. Death would have been better. So much better than this.

_This isn't the life for me,  
This isn't the way I want to be.  
And let me tell you.,  
Death will come when I'm good and ready.  
This isn't the life for me,  
This isn't the way I want to be.  
And let me tell you,  
Death will come when I'm good and ready._


End file.
